


A Morning of Many Flavours

by whoneedsapublisher



Category: Mahou Shoujo Madoka Magika | Puella Magi Madoka Magica
Genre: F/F, Post-Rebellion Story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-11-19 05:12:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18131402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whoneedsapublisher/pseuds/whoneedsapublisher
Summary: A normal morning for Homura these days involves coffee, toast, and a hint of tension.





	A Morning of Many Flavours

“Pass the milk,” Sayaka said.

“I’m not done with it,” Homura replied, gently pouring some of it into her coffee.

Sayaka snorted. “That has to be at least half milk by now. Shouldn’t _the devil_ take her coffee black?”

“I don’t believe I’m required to change my preferences because of such a thing,” Homura replied calmly.

“You don’t think you should lose anything?” Sayaka’s voice was less playful now, and harder. Angrier.

Homura looked up at her and smiled. “I don’t think there’s anyone that can make me give up what I want.”

They locked eyes for a long moment. Silence fell over the kitchen as both of them stayed perfectly still, watching the other for the slightest twitch.

_Schunk!_

The toaster made a loud noise as it finished, launching the two slices of bread into the air slightly. One rye, one wheat.

Sayaka sighed exaggeratedly and looked away, shrugging her shoulders casually as if nothing had happened. “Whatever. Don’t use all of it,” she said, pushing her chair out and standing to fish the toast out of the toaster.

“Fine,” Homura said. She took an experimental sip of her coffee. Despite the milk, it was still bitter. It was a taste that had taken a while to get used to. Late nights, pouring over maps, making plans that always failed. Building all kinds of weapons, all equally worthless in the end.

But that was all over now. She took another sip and savoured the bite. It couldn’t hurt her any more. Not in this world, where she’d won.

Sayaka returned with two plates, setting down one front of Homura. It was a piece of wheat toast. With butter.

Homura looked up at her. Sayaka looked back innocently, sitting back in her chair. “I buttered it for you. You’re welcome.”

Homura hated butter.

“...Thank you,” she said, taking a bite without breaking eye contact and swallowing it without changing her expression. She watched the smug look on Sayaka’s face slide into a frown.

Wordlessly, she passed Sayaka the milk. Sayaka took it with a click of her tongue and poured herself a glass.

“So, did you hear that a girl asked Madoka out yesterday?” Sayaka said casually.

Of course she had. She’d known before it even happened. Seen the letter the girl had written, watched through her servant’s eyes as she hesitantly sealed it with a kiss. She’d probably been in love with Madoka since second year, but it had taken the threat of Madoka graduating soon and going off to college to convince her to take action.

“Is that so?” she said evenly, taking another bite of the toast. The awful, slimy, oily taste of butter exploded on her tongue, but her face didn’t so much as twitch.

“Madoka hasn’t said yes or no yet,” Sayaka continued, giving Homura a meaningful look. “She said she needed a day to think it over.”

“I see,” Homura said. She’d known that too, of course.

“Aren’t you going to do anything about it?” Sayaka asked leaping to her feet and slamming her hands on the table. Her chair skidded out behind her, making a screeching noise against the floor. “Are you really going to just let this happen?!”

Homura looked at her impassively. “I don’t see that it’s any of my business if one of our classmates I hardly know gets a love confession.”

Sayaka glared at her.

“That is all she is to me in this world, is it not?” Homura said, a smile playing at her lips as Sayaka’s glare intensified. “Besides, what would I even do? After all,” she said, standing and leaning forward, cupping Sayaka’s cheek. “I’m taken.”

“Fuck you,” Sayaka hissed.

Homura chuckled and withdrew her hand, sitting down again. “Hurry up and eat your toast,” she said, before taking a long sip of her coffee. “We need to leave soon, or we’ll be late.”

Sayaka crossed her arms and sat back down in her chair heavily, taking a large, angry bite of her toast, tearing off almost half of it at once.

Homura ignored her and focused on finishing her own slice.

By the time she did, Sayaka was already up and clearing away dishes. Draining the last of her coffee, Homura rinsed her dishes in the sink and went to fetch her and Sayaka’s bags. They met at the door and Homura held out her bag. When Sayaka reached for it, Homura caught her hand and pulled her close.

Sayaka glared warily at her. Homura leaned in for a kiss. Sayaka returned it.

“Well then,” Homura said, as they pulled apart. “Let’s go.”

Sayaka tasted like the toast she’d eaten, slathered with raspberry jam. She tasted of her toothpaste, of the milk she’d been drinking, and of the mints she liked. But what she tasted most like was victory.

And that was a taste Homura was fond of indeed.

 


End file.
